


the lengths that I will go to

by Adarian



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-12-26 08:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: Less than a week before her marriage to Alistair, Anora is confronted with the vicious rumour that she never consummated her relationship with Cailan. In order to appease the suspicious Landsmeet, she and Alistair are cooerced into performing a Dans-le-lit, an Orlesian tradition of public sex before a small audience of the rich and powerful.With time running out, Anora is forced to face her own fears and values. Is a kingdom worth breaking her heart?Written for a kink-meme prompt





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there friends. So this one is going to be a bit of a slower burn. Which is weird for me, I know. But I'm really trying to be intentional to explore character's thoughts on page and this piece is a bit of an experiment for me. Hope it works out but this whole super vulnerable thing is new for me. 
> 
> Also, the prompt did not call exactly for a Dans-le-lit but hey if you've already come up with a plot device, use it.

At five days before her second wedding, Anora felt only numb. All the steps felt familiar and it was if she was a nineteen year old once again preparing to marry a man she did not love for the good of her country.

All those years ago, it was her mother who had spoken to her about the wedding night. Celie had been kind and sweet and giggled and Anora listened with a quiet acceptance. She went along, pretended, and played a part that was expected of her. She had not wanted to hurt her mother's feelings. 

This time, it was Eamon who came to her door and she planned to throw him out of her chambers, but he insisted it was important. She sighed and let him enter. She sat on her lounge and he remained standing across from her. She gestured for him to sit but he did not move.

"Your Highness," he said, "what I come to speak of is delicate and I do not mean to offend your sensibilities."

"You offend my senses by being in the same room as me," Anora said with lampooned sweetness. "Say what you will, Arl."

"It is about your upcoming wedding and your marriage to King Alistair."

Every time she heard that title she flinched slightly. "Yes?"

"I do not know..."

She sighed. "Say it and be done with it, Eamon." 

"There are fears that this marriage, like the last, will remain unconsummated and Ferelden forever without an heir."

Anora's heart leapt to her throat and blood pounded in her ears. He knew. How did he know? Cailan had slept in her bed most nights, usually after carousing with another woman. Cailan would have been too embarrassed to say to anyone that he had never bedded his wife. How the hell did Eamon know? It was none of his business, none at all. Her sexual history had nothing to do with her governance. This was a joke, a cruel joke, that what made the Landsmeet question her capabilities was her virginity. 

Eamon asked, "Is it true then, your Highness? Are you still a maid?"

The word nearly made her laugh. Maid. Like she was a teenager who still blushed at the thought of another holding her hand. As if she were not a grown woman, a widow, a Queen, and a General. 

She replied, "It is none of your business."

"But it is Ferelden's," Eamon argued. "Surely you must see that the people do not trust you as they did before. If they believe that no heir will come of your marriage then they will see no reason for you to be Alistair's bride."

"No reason?" She questioned. "My years of experience count for nothing?"

"Alistair is the last of the Theirin line, Anora. That is what matters to the people."

"He is a Grey Warden," she reminded. "He is unlikely to sire a child regardless."

"We will worry about that later. What matters now is restoring the common people's faith in you, Anora, and the best way to do that is for you to carry Alistair's child. Rumours are spreading quickly and you will be soon swept away in them."

"The people believe all sorts of foolish things. We cannot indulge all of them."

Eamon replied, "Then perhaps I should clarify. The Landsmeet will require proof that you have fulfilled your marital duties. A small committee will meet in an hour to decide the best approach. I think it would be helpful if you attended."

Anora felt as if she had been slapped. "Helpful?"

Eamon bowed his head. "I do not mean to be disrespectful."

"Then you succeed regardless," she spat. "I will let no committee decide what I do with my body. You have no right."

"To be frank, your Highness," Eamon replied, "the Landsmeet does. If a solution cannot be found, then you will not be permitted to wed Alistair and will be exiled as you previously were scheduled to be. The Theirin line must continue. With or without you."

"Get out," she ordered.

Eamon did so without another word, closing the door behind him. Anora sat on her bed slowly, primal fear flooding her. Every part of her flushed and her heart beat so loudly in her ears she could hear nothing else. She was an animal with its paw in a trap, ready to chew off it's own leg to escape. 

The feeling faded but did not pass. It lived in her chest, gnawing at her, whispering again and again that this time she could not avoid what she feared so much. The choice would be taken from her and she would be left with nothing but a used body and a shattered heart.

***

Anora went to this committee meeting, grateful to find there were so few members and not surprised to find that there was only one woman in the room. Eamon's wife Isolde was not someone she expected to see nor was Anora at all fond of her. She doubted Isolde would consider Anora's feelings but the fact she was there and not a true Arlessa spoke volumes of how this committee was truly just Eamon and a few lackeys to give an air of democracy.

The other remaining players included Bann Teagan and Alistair himself. 

"So this is a family affair then," Anora said. "Are there any other backwater cousins you would have discuss my bodily functions?"

Alistair gave a hint of a smile and she sneered at him in response. 

Teagan said kindly, "My brother did not wish word to spread too far, my Lady. Please, have a seat."

The only open chair was between Eamon and Alistair. She remained standing. 

Eamon began, "I am glad you are here. I did not wish to speak to Alistair without you here. I believe we have found a solution, your Highness. 

"To my virginity?" Anora asked. "Pray, tell. Have you discovered where children come from? It is wonderful you have finally managed to deduce such a thing."

"There is a tradition that was practiced in Ferelden during the Occupation," Isolde explained. "It is called a Dans-le-lit. It is a public bedding as a form of entertainment. Sometimes it is practiced in order to help broker alliances. You could host a Dans-le-lit to follow the wedding ceremony. Those who witness the consummation will be beholden to the new King and Queen of Ferelden and sworn to never harm any child conceived during the night. You could have your public demonstration to squelch rumours as well as gain great political standing in both countries."

Eamon frowned. "It is very...Orlesian. Will that not send the wrong message?"

"I think having your Queen deflowered in the streets sends a much worse one," Isolde quipped. "With relations being as they are, this may help ease tensions."

Alistair laughed. "You're joking, right? Tell me this is some kind of joke."

Isolde glanced briefly at him. "No, it is not."

Eamon pleaded, "It is something to consider..."

The room felt suffocating to Anora and she ordered, "All of you out. Now."

Eamon protested, "But Your Highness-"

She demanded, "Out."

When Alistair stood, she put her hand on his shoulder, commanding him wordlessly to stay. The Guerrins left the office, Teagan shooting Alistair a sympathetic look.

Once they were alone, Alistair sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

Anora accused, "You think the idea has some sort of merit?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't want to do it. I really, really don't want to do it. But do we have a choice? We're doing this to stop a civil war. Shouldn't we do anything we can to make sure there's peace?"

"You suggest we go along then? Like puppets? We are monarchs. They have no right to treat us like dolls they wish to bump together while they laugh."

"I know it's embarrassing but-" 

"This is an embarrassment to you," she snarled, "but it is a humiliation to me. Can't you get it through your thick head that I am being punished? They blame me for a lack of an heir and condemning me to something they would not dream of subjecting their daughters to. This has been designed to destroy me, Alistair, and I will not go to my slaughter a meek lamb so you can feel better about it."

Alistair grew quieter. "You are right. You are. But this isn't just about me being embarrassed. I believed, Anora. I believed in the Maker through the whole Blight. I served Him the best I could, even when everything was going to hell around me. I questioned and struggled every day seeing so many people suffer. The Dans-le-lit isn't about me being sheepish. It's forcing me to do yet another thing against my faith. I always believed that sex was meant for pleasure between two people who loved each other and had sworn to love each other for all of eternity. Now I have to lay with a woman who hates me in front of strangers so they can witness our mockery of a marriage. I know you are giving up your dignity, but I am giving up a piece of my soul I will never get back."

Anora replied, "You are King, Alistair. You do not have the luxury of having a soul."

"I guess not. For what it means, Anora, I am really sorry."

She admitted, "I do not hate you. I just wish...I just wish for both of our sakes that we had not found ourselves here."

Alistair muttered, "Trust me when I say I wish for that every day." 

Alistair left the room, slamming the door behind him. Anora leaned against the table and tried to collect herself. She needed Alistair to be on her side. Already the Guerrins had too much influence on him. If there was a way to mitigate the situation, he was her only real ally. She needed to coax him into seeing her perspective before he stewed too much in his own thoughts.

She looked for him in his rooms, but he was gone. For a time she searched from him, only to find him in the frozen courtyard. He was slouched, lowering himself to speak more softly to his fellow Warden. Tabris's face was softer than Anora had ever seen it. If Anora didn't know better, she would have guessed Alistair had just confided in her that he had a terminal illness. Anora hid behind a pillar, listening as the Warden reacted to Alistair's words. 

"It was the only way I could save your life," Tabris insisted. "You gotta know that, Alistair. If there had been another way, I'd have done it. Hell, I'd have married her myself so you wouldn't have to." 

"I know," he murmured.

"Shit," she grumbled. "I've talked us out of so many situations but I don't see a way out of this one. We barely worked this shit show out in the first place. If the people think you're not doing it, then they're going to riot. Shit, why couldn't she have just closed her eyes and thought of Ferelden?"

"I think she's scared."

"Scared?" Tabris laughed. "You think she's scared? She's got some sort of angle. She always does. Maybe she was holding out on him to get some kind of leverage. Maybe she was trying to keep her figure? I don't know, Alistair, but that woman is as cold as ice. The only thing she's scared about is losing that pretty little crown of hers and we both know she'll do whatever she needs to so she can keep it."

"Maybe, but she's scared about this sort of thing. I mean...you'd get that, right?"

Tabris' mirth faded. "Maybe."

There was a quiet moment and then Tabris said, "You know what no means and I know you'd take a knife to the throat before hurting someone like that. If anyone forces either of you, I'll gut them myself."

Alistair smiled. "I don't think it'll get that far, but I'll keep that in mind."

Tabris looked ever so slightly towards where Anora was hiding but quickly turned her gaze back to Alistair. "Brother, we should go have some food. Would you grab me my sweater? I'll head towards the kitchens and with your long legs we'll get there around the same time. My cousin Barlin is the chef tonight and he's promised us double portions before we've got to go eat that fancy garbage. 

Alistair nodded. "Okay, I'll see you soon."

Once Alistair was out of earshot, Tabris called out to Anora, "I hope you didn't train your spies yourself, your Highness. You want to come out and talk like adults?"

Anora scowled and stepped towards her. Tabris crossed her arms across her chest and glared at her.

"Now don't you look radiant," Tabris said. "That's what they say to brides, right? You look like the damn sun shines out your ass. Couldn't stand to be away from your future husband for more than a few minutes? They always say the honeymoon period ends quickly but I think you two crazy kids are going to make it work."

"Does your mocking never cease?" Anora asked. "Or is it your only form of communication? If so, you should be carefully not to use all of your vocabulary in a single conversation, Warden. One might think you were an illiterate fool."

Tabris smirked. "You know, every once in awhile I think I should feel sorry for you and then I talk to you again."

"The feeling is mutual."

"So what were you hoping you were going to hear, princess?"

Anora did not know and so she said nothing. 

"You know he's a virgin too, right? Not that he's going to make a big deal of it when this is all about shaming you. That's the part that really gets me, your Highness," Tabris spat. "He was waiting for true love. He wanted the fairy tale and all he got was a loveless marriage with you. I meant what I said. If there had been another way, I would have taken it. I destroyed his life to save it and it will haunt me every damn day of my damn life."

Anora replied coolly, "There is nothing that stops him from taking a mistress. You can have your toy once the Landsmeet has their fun with him. You do not have to torment me for your own lack of insight."

Tabris laughed. "You think I'm in love with him? You've never had a real friend, have you? Yeah, I love Alistair. I love him like he's my own brother. He's my family just as much as my kin by blood. You probably don't understand that, being raised by a backstabbing manipulative traitor, but some people are capable of a little thing called compassion. You ever do something for someone other than you?"

Anora growled, "Everything I have done has been for this country, you little Alienage punk. You became a Grey Warden a year ago. I have been working and playing this system for decades. You got your position because of a fluke. I earned mine and I will not have you speak to me so without consequences."

Tabris bared her teeth. "I got my position because your father arranged for the slaughter of our kinsmen. That was a consequence of a man playing the system. There is nothing honourable in your service to Ferelden, Anora. It is and has always been about your own pride, just like Loghain's."

Anora went to slap her but Tabris caught her wrist. The women glared at each other without speaking until they heard Alistair demanding them to stop it.

He forced them apart and Anora hoped for a moment he would defend her, but he instantly turned to Tabris, leading her away while telling her to take deep breaths.

 _He will never love me like he loves her_ she realized. _He will have friends when I have none, family when I have none._

Loneliness overwhelmed her and she longed for her mother so strongly she almost couldn't breathe. She longed for mint tea and her reading nook stuffed with pillows. She longed for the little cat that slept by her feet. She wanted her home, her abandoned home now given to that horrible Warden to do with as she pleased. She had nothing. She was nothing.

Anora returned to her office and sat on the desk, looking up through the skylight above. She watched the snow build and slip down on the peak as it grew too heavy. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, suddenly feeling cold.

There was a knock at the door and she stood again. "Come in."

Alistair entered, closing the door behind him.

He apologized, "I'm sorry about Louie. She...runs a little hot sometimes."

"It is no matter," Anora replied. "She will be gone soon enough. I imagine we will have little to do with her when she goes to Amaranthine." 

Alistair flinched. "Yeah, I guess so."

It was harsh, but part of her was relieved she could affect his mood. He might not be maneuvered the same as the other men in her world, but he had weak points. 

"Was there something else you wanted to say?" She asked.

Alistair muttered, "No."  
"Then I see little point to this conversation," she snapped.

Alistair left, refusing to look at her. Anora looked back up at falling snow and then closed her eyes. She was a child of winter, of the warmth that survived even as the world grew cold. A hot heart for the darkest of days. That is what the people of Gwaren called a winter child. 

And Alistair...a summer baby if she had ever met one. Summers were short in Gwaren and they were viewed with suspicion. They never lasted as long as expected and even a hot day was followed by a cold night. They burned bright and flickered just when one's eyes grew used to the light. Summer children were bright and buoyant, but they were destined to die young. 

_And together you would make spring_ , her mother would tease. _And is that not we all long for? To begin again?_

This was no new beginning. This was the end of her freedom.


	2. Chapter 2

**cw: mention of a historic threat of sexual violence.**

Anora slept little that night, her dreams filled with her father's restless presence. He would pace beside her, no matter where she was or who she was with. 

She would snap at him, "What are you waiting for?"

And he would laugh in his dark chuckle and she would wake with no answer.

Anora readied herself for breakfast, knowing that another day of wedding arrangements awaited her. She pushed the thought of the Dans-le-lit to the side, though it continously threatened her sanity. 

The dining room was meant for more intimate family meals though it still easily sat two dozen people. Alistair was already at one end in deep conversation with Tabris, though the elf left the moment she saw Anora. Alistair did not go after her, returning to his breakfast.

"I can go," Anora offered.

Alistair shook his head. "Stay. We might as well get used to this."

This had been the part of her marriage she had loved most, eating breakfast with Cailan. He would be quiet and just beam at her, even when he was hung over or smelling like another woman. 

She couldn't imagine having those moments with Alistair.

"I was thinking," Alistair said slowly, "that we didn't exactly handle ourselves very well yesterday. We were both upset and I think we said a lot of things that we didn't mean. Maybe...maybe we should talk today."

"Is Eamon already making the arrangements?" Anora asked.

Alistair nodded and Anora murmured, "Then there's nothing to talk about."

He insisted, "Anora, in four days we're getting married. You're going to be stuck with me for the rest of my life. You might as well try to make this work."

His life. Not hers. She picked up on the choice of words but left it for now.

"This is an alliance, not a marriage," she reminded.

He shrugged. "Fine."

The silence that followed felt almost suffocating. She could not spend the next fifty years of her life sitting across from him, glancing occasionally only to turn away. If she spoke to him, he would at least look at her. He would at least acknowledge her as a human being and not a political resource.

"What do you want to talk about?" She asked.

"We've been living together for three months and I barely know anything about you," he said. "We should get to know each other a little bit."

Small talk. Even worse than silence.

Seeing her expression, Alistair tried again. "Or at least we can talk about the wedding. You know a lot more about international politics and diplomacy than me. I could use your help preparing. I don't want to look like a fool."

She nodded. "That would be wise. Perhaps we can meet in my chambers in the afternoon? There are some things I would like to accomplish first."

He smiled and gave a little nod. "We can do that."

The servant finally brought Anora her breakfast and she slowly picked at her food, waiting until Alistair left the room before she dove in. She didn't like people to watch her eat, even Cailan. Alistair ate more piggishly than she thought humanly possible and she felt relieved that she would at least always looked dignified next to him.

***

Alistair, for all his faults, was not a terrible student. He memorized the correct names and pronunciations. He learned the right titles and who was having an affair and who was not. He learned to greet guests in five different languages and could properly bow without looking as if he would tip over.

It was strange but in the day's light, he looked much less like Cailan than she had originally thought. His skin was darker, surprisingly dark, and he was much taller. His hair was more red than blonde and was naturally curly. He was light on his feet despite his size and had a smile that was insipidly infectious. He reminded her a little of a hunting dog her father once had and that made her feel a bit more affectionate to him, despite how much she had hated the dog.

Now they were practicing a slow waltz, difficult considering the height difference between the two. Alistair was careful not to step on her feet and she led, making sure he did not feel lost. They didn't have time to teach him all the steps and she had often led for Cailan when he was too distracted to. 

As the sun began to dip in the sky, Alistair asked, "So anything I should know about the ceremony itself?"

"It is like any other Andrastian wedding," Anora replied. "Just follow along with the priestess' directions."

"I've never actually been to a wedding," he admitted. "Not a lot of call for them among the Templars and the Grey Wardens. But I guess you're right. People get married every day and no one loses an eye. I imagine you've been to a lot."

She smiled fondly. "All the time. My father had a policy that if you were invited to a wedding, you went. He loved them. Any time one of his subjects asked him, he'd go and bring such wonderful wedding presents. I went along with him when I was small. It's bad luck to go a wedding alone, he always said, and my mother wasn't a big fan of dancing."

Alistair frowned slightly and she saw the conflict in his eyes. Her own voice softened.

"You're going to have to learn how to talk about him," Anora said, "I know you didn't know him like I did. You only saw the very worst parts of him. But...but he was my dad. I love him, despite everything he did. And I don't want to go the rest of my life without being able to say that."

Alistair refused, "Maybe it's not fair, but I can't. Not yet at least. Maybe to you he was a good man but he destroyed the Grey Wardens. He destroyed my family. That's not something I can just get over. Maybe...maybe one day. But not now." 

Anora said nothing in reply. It was not something she was willing to argue about. She stopped dancing and simply stood across from him.

After a time, Alistair murmured, "Can I ask you something?"

Anora nodded and he asked, "Why did you never consummate your marriage?"

She looked away and admitted, "I was scared."

"Of Cailan?"

"Never. It was not his fault."

"Did you ever talk to him about it?" 

She shook her head. "No. I did not think he would understand. He grew up with different expectations about sex. I did not want him to think I was weak. It was easier for him to think that I just did not want him. That I did not love him."

"Did you love him?"

Anora wasn't sure what to say. She could lie and say she was devoted to her husband and could never consider being with any other man. She could lie and say she hated him and was glad to be rid of him. The truth was somewhere in between and in her experience men could not comprehend anything that was not a yes or no.

There was a gentleness in Alistair's eyes, one she wanted to rip apart and destroy. A softness that he had no right to have, a kindness that was too precious for such a fool to carry. He wanted to love her and she wanted to scream at him, to remind him every moment of this ridiculous compromise that what they had was not romance, it was politics. 

But she was so tired. So tired of pretending, of lifting a veil in front of her eyes with her hands and hoping her fingers would not grow numb. So tired of surviving through coy smiles and well-chosen words. 

Anora's voice wavered. "Sometimes. Sometimes I thought it could be different. Sometimes I wondered if I could open myself to him then he would finally love me. But I couldn't. I always knew he would break my heart if I did. So I didn't try."

"That's why you were scared to...consummate your relationship then? You were worried you might care too much about him?"

Anora could have left it there and have Alistair think her childish and selfish. Either way he would have thought her weak. He might as well think so for the right reasons.

Anora looked away from him, glancing out the window. "No, not entirely. It was not just him. I was...I am...I was..."

She cleared her throat. "When I was sixteen, a minor lord in Gwaren misunderstood my intentions in our conversations. When I attempted to clarify the matter, he decided to force the issue. A guard was in earshot and ended the dispute before it became violent."

Alistair's face went white as a sheet. "He assaulted you?"

Anora had perfected the explanation. She had practiced it daily in her mind as a teenager, ready to whip it out with perfect calm if need be. She had never told a soul or did anyone ask but the speech remained primed. And now it had been destroyed, shattered, revealing the act the careful words attempted to hide.

Anora nodded. "He tried, yes."

Alistair asked softly, "Can I hug you?"

To her surprise, she nodded and Alistair embraced her. He had a remarkable heat and she curled into it, glad for some relief on the cold winter's day. His hand cradled the back of her head and she felt some semblance of safety.

"We're not going to do it," Alistair assured. "None of them have the right to be part of this. You never have to be with me like that, Anora. Not if you don't want to. If those...those pricks need a show to think you're worthy of being Queen then they're not worthy of being lords and ladies. We'll figure out some other way to make them happy but I'm not hurting you to do it."

It was a naive declaration but it was kind nonetheless. Alistair seemed the sort that would do such a politically suicidal thing in order to save another. It was why he would make a terrible King on his own, but she could see the value of his overwhelming optimism and compassion in balancing her own decisions. 

She pulled away and rose to her feet, crossing over to the window. Alistair remained on the lounge, his sad puppy eyes meeting hers. She felt a pang of guilt in rejecting his offer of protection but she could not let the romantic notion go unchecked. 

"Just because I am afraid does not mean I will not do what I need to do," she said firmly. "Before it was not necessary and now it is. I will do my duty to my country as I have always done. I hope that you will be mature enough to learn to do the same." 

Alistair stood, his expression turning cooler. "Your Highness, I have served Ferelden since I was a child, both as Templar and Grey Warden. I only agreed to this marriage because I thought it would save lives. I know you don't want to marry me. I wouldn't have picked you either. You don't have to love me or even like me. I'd just hoped that you could at the very least respect me."

She did respect him, in a way. He had helped save Ferelden, even if he had received a remarkable amount of help from his fellow Warden. He stuck to his principles and he had never spoken ill of her, even when he had good reason to. But none of that was enough to make him worthy of being King. None of that erased the years between them or the ghost of Cailian's smile on his lips. Nothing would make him good enough to be her husband. Nothing would make him good enough to be her King. 

In that moment, she pitied him more than she pitied herself. She did not relish it.

Alistair said quietly, "Thank you for trusting me. I will leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening without my presence."

A better woman might have apologized but Anora let him walk out without another word. She leaned against the wall and covered her eyes with her hand, hoping the looming migraine might fade on its own. 

There was a light knock on the wall and Anora looked to see Erlina enter with a pot of tea and two mugs. She closed the door behind her and sat on the lounge. She poured them both a drink as Anora sat across from her.

Anora held the mug in her hands, not speaking as Erlina quietly drank her own tea.

When she was finished her own cup, Erlina asked, "My Lady, is it not to your liking?"

"I don't want to marry him," Anora murmured. 

Erlina asked softly, "And does that matter?"

Anora wiped a tear away. "No, but I needed to say it aloud. Just once."

Erlina replied, "Drink your tea, my Lady. It will help you sleep."

Anora did so slowly, letting Erlina ready the room for the evening. When she finished her cup, Erlina helped her out of her dress and into her nightgown. Anora washed her face and cleaned her teeth on her own while Erlina pulled back the covers. They sat on the edge of the bed as Erlina unbraided her hair and brushed it out tenderly. When she finished, Anora laid her head on Erlina's shoulder, tears welling in her eyes again.

"My father is dead and that does not matter. My husband is dead and that does not matter. My entire country thought I was no Queen and that does not matter. No part of my own misery matters. They expected me to smile as they married me to a man who hates me. Now they expect me to smile while he humiliates me in front of every political connection I have. I can't do this, Erlina. I can't do this," Anora whispered.

Erlina had no comforting words for everything she said was true. 

"Sleep well, my Lady. It will look better in the morning."


	3. Chapter 3

The more far-flung guests began to arrive. Dignitaries were greeted by Alistair, one of the great Heroes of Ferelden, the last of the Theirin bloodline, and the man who would bring greatness to the country again. He bumbled through most of it but seemed to remember a little of her lessons.

They stood side by side without speaking, neither wanting to acknowledge the other. They did not speak all day, in fact, giving instructions through servants when the other was needed. Anora had lunch with a few ladies of the court, each expressing their condolences about Cailan before giving advice about her marriage as if she had never been married before. Anora smiled through it, thanked them, and played the part she had not so long ago. Delicate, fragile, demure. Blushing when they suggested their first child might be born by the fall, blushing when they spoke of Alistair's good looks. Blushing until they teased and joked about what it must be like to be young and in love.

It made her want to punch the wall until her knuckles bled. But instead she just held her fists tight in her lap and imagined throwing the table over again and again.

Dinner was a much grander affair in the dining hall with four courses. Alistair and Anora were forced to sit side by side. He tried to hold her hand but she pulled it away and shot him a dirty look.

Alistair left as soon as it was plausible for him to do so politely. Anora made her own excuses, relying on the public to assume that she could not go more than a few minutes without her fiancé.

She looked around the castle for him, only to discover Alistair in the stables. His fine coat and cloak strewn over a bench. A few mabari puppies played in the straw below it, one chewing on his discarded dining gloves. Alistair himself was in a stall, picking a stone out of a horse's hoof. He hummed to the creature and talked softly while he completed his task.

Anora waited by the door, worried to startle him or the horse. Eventually Alistair looked up and patted the horse's flank before closing the stall behind him. 

"Lord Jovan mentioned his horse nearly threw him today and would have to be put down," Alistair commented dryly. "People who don't understand their animals shouldn't get to keep them. I've sent the royal bookkeeper over to buy her. I hope that's okay. She seems pretty gentle. She might be nice company for some of the others."

"You don't need to consult me on your purchases," she replied.

Alistair lifted an eyebrow. "You're shy now?"

She said bitterly, "It seems to be preferred."

"Not by me," he said, picking up his coat. "I can't tell what you're thinking and you're usually a few steps ahead of me. I liked to get warned before I make a fool of myself."

"You have been holding yourself with surprising grace," she admitted. "I do not think you have made yourself a fool all day."

"I was talking about last night," he said quietly. "I thought things were going well. I thought...well, I guess it doesn't matter."

Anora asked, "What did you think?"

Alistair smiled sadly. "That maybe you wanted to make this work."

The absurdity and the simplicity of the moment struck her. He was a boy. She might in many ways still be young but he was foolish enough to still believe there could be a happy ending for them both. That one day she could love him.

But what was truly absurd was that in this light, she could almost imagine it. She could never love King Alistair, shadow of his father and brother before him, the loyal sidekick to the foul mouthed Hero of Ferelden. But she could love a man who left a decadent dinner to tend to a stranger's horse in the snow. This man, this boy, whatever this glimpse of who Alistair was when left alone, he was...almost charming.

How could such a man agree to such a barbarous act? 

Before she could stop herself, Anora almost pleaded, "Why did you listen to him?"

The sincerity in her own voice scared her and Alistair looked taken aback. 

She shook her head as she tried to clarify, "I know none of this was your idea. You clearly don't want to be King and your little bullwhip would not force you. What do you owe Eamon that you think must be repaid with your own happiness?"

"You thought before this was about duty."

"Now, perhaps, but it would surprise me if ruling Ferelden struck you as the sensible means in which to do it," she commented, "and you seem too stubborn to have simply fallen into this."

Alistair smirked slightly. "You might be giving me too much credit."

"I mean more to admire Eamon's skills of persuasion," she replied. "He was uncle to the former King but now he has no familial connections at court and still has more influence than any other."

"He's my uncle too. Sort of. He took me in when no one else wanted me."

He did not know. Anora's heart clenched in her chest. What good would it do now? The truth would only crush his heart further and it would give him no advantage. It might even make him hate Loghain more. 

Anora thought of her last words with her father, just before he was wiped from the face of this world. He had held her close, his forehead pressed to hers, as he whispered, "Forgive me for forgetting how much I loved you all. Nothing else should have mattered. Be better than I was, my little girl, be better than me."

He studied her face, frowning. "Anora?"

She gestured to the bench. "Sit down, Alistair."

He did so, waiting for her to speak. He looked up at her and she had the strangest instinct to brush his misbehaving hair from his face. The vulnerability in his eyes was too much and she sat beside him instead.

Anora explained, "When your mother died, you came to Denerim first. No one knew what to do with you but Maric said it was important you weren't raised at court or as his son."

"So then Eamon asked to take me in," Alistair said. "Yeah, I know that bit."

She should have left it, but it needed to be said. If not for the truth to be known, if not for Alistair to understand, then to help break the bond that had landed them both in this situation. 

Anora's voice grew softer. "No. Then my father brought you home to Gwaren until it was decided what to be done. You lived with us for about five months until Maric decided that Eamon would raise you. He and my father had been growing apart and he decided that you should be with family. Eamon took you from my mother's arms, Alistair. I remembered a baby crying, just screaming, and I remembered my mother running after a horse, my father holding her back. I didn't know what any of those memories meant until...until my mother was dying. She asked me about you, asked me to tell her that you were happy. I lied. I had no idea who you were but I wanted her to smile. After she passed, I demanded my father tell me the truth. He said that Maric was pulling away from him and if he risked his ire fighting for you, he would lose Cailan too." 

Alistair had not met her glance since she had first mentioned Loghain. He seethed silently and when she finished, he rose to his feet and murmured, "It changes nothing."

"Of course it does," she insisted. "You owe him nothing. You had a home, you had-"

She got up to storm after him and Alistair spun around to face her. She saw the dark glint in his eyes and they stood a breath apart, each ready to snarl or strike. He gained his composure first, his chest softening.

"It changes nothing," he repeated quietly. 

It was not often Anora misjudged her words but she realized that it had not been political motivation to tell him the story. It had been a confidence. She had wanted to tell him something she had held close to her chest, something she could not speak to another about. She had wanted to him to trust her.

He cocked his head and there was a trace of pity in his face, even as he held back his own tears. He opened his mouth but whatever he meant to say died in his throat.

Finally she murmured, "They'll be expecting us to return soon. We do not want to give them the wrong idea."

When Alistair did not move, she did, returning inside. She joined the guests for after dinner drinks, wrapping her hands around a steaming mug of mulled cider. Her heart was not in it, but she played the game, practicing her political strategy in every sip and smile.

***

Unable to sleep, Anora wandered the halls that night like a ghost unseen. She listened to the quiet snores, to the hushed giggles, to the poorly hidden thumps and loud roars of the proudly drunk. 

She paused when she came to Eamon's study, the room her father had once worked from. A light shown and in her near exhaustion, she half wondered if Loghain was restoring one of his maps.

Instead she heard Alistair's gentle voice and Eamon's near silent replies.

_"Is there not another way?"_

_"Do you trust her, Alistair?"_

_"I..."_

_"If it had been my decision, I would have locked her away in a tower and thrown away the key but you and your friend went and offered her a peace treaty along with your hand in marriage. And this...this is a condition of the treaty. She must show that she will put Ferelden's needs above her own selfish desires. I like this no more than you, Alistair. I would have been satisfied to witness your consummation with the rest of the council. But I trust my wife's recommendation. If we can both assure the Landsmeet that she is willing to produce an heir and gain alliances with other nations then this Dans-le-lit will cement both your standings as King and Queen of Ferelden."_

_"And serve to punish her? To humiliate her?"_

_"She is a traitor to this country, even if the common people do not see it. She is every inch her father's daughter, Alistair. You have made a deal with a snake that is only waiting to sink her fangs into you. Cut out her poison before she strikes and she will be a mere nuisance and not a threat."_

There was a long pause and when Alistair finally spoke, his voice grew hard and harsh. If his words had been aimed at her, she would have been afraid of him. But what he said next made her tremble instead with relief.

_"If you ever call my future wife a traitor again, you will find yourself in that locked tower. I agreed to this to protect us both and because I respected your advice. But I will not have a man serve on the council when his motivation is to force a woman into submission before him. After the wedding, you will retire your post and return to Redcliffe to be with your family."_

_"Alistair-"_

_"If you ever loved me, do not ask me to change my mind. If you ever respected me, do not make me order you to leave."_

Anora could not hear Eamon's response but there were footsteps and she fled back up towards her room. She heard the door open and close and then Alistair called her name.

She turned and their eyes met. She was not sure whether it was with anger or desperation he shook and she was not sure if he wanted her comfort. Instead they looked at the other in uncertainty until Alistair finally walked away.

She put her hand on her heart, willing it to slow. He had meant what he said. He wanted to make this work.

And for the first time, so did she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so much headcanoning but I don't care. None of Alistair's baby years make sense. 
> 
> Also, there is a different version of Alistair's comeback written on a piece of paper that I have now lost to the universe and by that I meant accidentally thrown out. We'll pretend this one was better. I mean, it's not, but we'll pretend.


	4. Chapter 4

Anora did not know how to approach Alistair the next day so instead she focused her energies on wedding preparations. There were a few she had been avoiding as they seemed tedious but she knew the political ramifications of every garment she would wear at the wedding. The Orlesians judged much from a pair of shoes.

She had been at it all morning. She had long thrown out any ladies in waiting, preferring to choose her attire alone. 

Yet still she found herself interrupted by a loud knock and Tabris letting herself into the dressing room. 

Anora sighed, "Warden, I do not have time so unless you know a great deal about the international shoe market I would request that you leave."

"Well then I'll be quick, your Highness," she replied curtly. "I just wanted to check in on you. You didn't go down to breakfast."

"I ate here," Anora said, stepping out of a pair of glass heels. "If that is all-"

"Nah, that's not all," Tabris interrupted. "Look...I wanted to say...."

Tabris took a deep breath. "We got off on the wrong foot with all this bull shit about your hymen. I get the idea that you might not have a lot of friends and well, if you're really going to go through this, I should have your back."

Anora commented, "If that is your attempt at friendship, Warden, I imagine you might not have many either." 

Tabris ignored her jab and said, "If you're nervous or scared or whatever, sometimes its good to talk about it. You don't have to worry about me thinking less of you since I already don't give a shit. So...if you want to talk..."

Anora tried to summon a retort but none came. The elf waited, cocking her head.

Finally Anora said, "Perhaps you do not know much about politics but you strike me as a woman with more experience with...performance. I have no peer in which I could discuss what approaches I should be taking and it would be best to strategize beforehand."

Tabris badly hid her smirk. "Performance? Like...tips?"

Anora rolled her eyes. "Not in the capacity you are implying."

"You'll have to be a bit more specific then, princess," Tabris replied. 

Anora bent down to stack shoeboxes, looking away from her. "In terms of...what would make a good impression upon those who were watching."

"Ah. Got you. Well...I guess...well, damn, I've never had someone watch before. Usually you're just trying to impress the other person."

Anora rose again, attempting to meet the Warden's inquisitive glance. She panicked and looked down at her own hands.

Anora struggled to ask, "How can I make them respect me when it is over?"

Tabris' bravado faded for a moment and Anora immediately regretted asking for her help. She started to turn away but the Warden touched her arm. 

"You want my advice, princess? You give them a show," Tabris ordered. "You walk into that room with a strut that reminds them you're the Queen of Ferelden. You walk in like you don't got a bone of shame in you. You show them you're the warrior you are." 

Anora was shocked by her sudden support and something in her crumbled, giving way now under the gentlest touch. 

"I can't," she protested. 

Tabris insisted, "This is the one time you don't have to act prim and proper and play their game. This is when you get to show those asshats what you're made of."

"They'll think I'm a slut."

"They'll think Alistair won the freaking jackpot, that's what they'll think. Get in there, ride him good, get him off quick, take a bow and get out."

Anora could feel her ears reddening. "Does it...will it hurt?"

Anora worried she would make fun of her, but Tabris only shrugged. "A little? It's not going to feel like you're being torn apart or broken or something. I guess it's like using muscles you never used before. Got to stretch 'em out, warm them up. Maybe try to get yourself going first. You okay doing that? You could probably get someone to help you out."

Anora flushed further. "I'll figure it out."

Tabris patted her on the back. "I'm rooting for you. You're a shithead, but you're my best friend's shithead."

She muttered, "Thanks...I guess."

"You pick your attendant yet? Not that I'm volunteering or nothing, but you got to make sure you got someone who can keep your safe once you've got your kit off."

Anora admitted, "I have someone in mind, but I still need to ask."

Tabris advised, "Better do it soon. You've only got two nights left. You doing a bachelorette party? Going to get some drinks and some shirtless guys to dance for us? Shirtless girls? I'm down for whatever you want."

Anora sighed, "This conversation is over."

Tabris smirked. "You're right. If we keep talking, we might end up friends."

Anora smiled slightly. "And that would be terrible, wouldn't it?"

Tabris gave her a brief salute and left the room. Erlina entered again and asked, "Is everything alright, my Lady?"

Anora replied, "Fine. Tell the cobbler I have selected my shoes and send the seamstress when she is finished with Alistair. Also, would you find Ser Cautherin for me? I wish to speak to her."

Erlina bowed her head and exited.

Anora took off the shoes she was wearing and placed them back into the carved oak box. She took another box, this one of fragrant cherrywood, and opened it up to reveal the third pair she had tried on, the delicate pink slippers embroidered with tiny rosebuds. 

They were soft and understated but they brought a smile to her face. Perhaps...perhaps there could be one thing that was just for her. 

She put them on and lifted her skirt to see them better. She giggled and did a twirl, the shoes tapping ever so slightly against the wood floors. 

"Your Highness?"

Anora's heart fluttered and she dropped the hem of her dress. She looked up to see Ser Cautherin enter the room, closing the door behind her. 

Anora sat down at her lounge, bending down to take off her shoes. Cautherin knelt before her and unlaced them for her, holding them as if they were made of glass. 

Their eyes met and Anora swallowed hard.

Anora asked, "You have heard of the Orlesian tradition that will follow the wedding ceremony?" 

Cautherin nodded and Anora was grateful she did not have to explain. " I know we have known each other for a short while, but I am still in need of an attendant and I would like to ask you."

Cautherin put the shoes to the side and let Anora's foot rest in her hand. Their eyes met again and this time Anora could not look away.

"I do not think that would be wise, my Lady," she admitted.

Anora pleaded, "There are so few who I can trust and I know you will keep me from harm, as you did when I was imprisoned by Howe. Please."

Cautherin rose and Anora followed, barely coming up to her chin.

Cautherin murmured, "Do not make me say it again, my Lady. You know I loved your father as my Lord and General and I would serve any daughter of his with my life, even if she were not as beautiful and clever as you. But I cannot do this. You will always have my devotion...and my affection, but to watch you give yourself to a man you do not love will break my heart."

Anora confessed, "If I had another choice...if I were not to be married again then I would want to get to know you better. Whatever this is, whatever this could have been, I think we could have been happy. I just want to remember that before I walk into that room. I want to remember what it was like to be happy." 

Cautherin cupped her face in her hand as a tear rolled down Anora's cheek. 

"I know we do not know each other well," Anora murmured, "and I know that...I know that your feelings may run deeper than mine. But perhaps for a few more moments we could pretend." 

Cautherin kissed her other cheek and whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry."

There is another story where Anora begged her to stay. There is another story where Anora allowed herself to fall in love with her and the pair would run away together to Loghain's hunting cottage in the Frostbacks. They would spend their lives in obscurity and in peace while Alistair managed to find some way to be King alone.

But in this story, Anora said nothing as Cautherin walked away. Anora had known from the beginning she would say no, but she was compelled to ask. The closest thing she truly had to a lover was an infatuation with a near stranger. But this too had to be destroyed before she entered that room. Nothing could distract from the wedding, not even the faint and fleeting promise of love.


	5. Chapter 5

Anora had not fallen asleep, not even as the dawn broke on the day before her wedding. Her mind had been racing too fast and her heart too heavy for her to do more than shut her eyes.

She had not gone to dinner the night before, claiming to be ill. She refused to leave her bed at all. She was sure that all downstairs would be laughing about wedding jitters or perhaps a few sly comments that she was already expecting. Alistair would be the charming fool he always was and soon people would forget that she was even missing.

Within a day, she would be married again. She had always hoped, deep down, that she would have found a way out of it. But it was soon here. Soon she would sleep in her old suite, beside a man who wasn't Cailan, but all wanted to pretend was. 

Her body felt tight and her rib cage closing in on her lungs. Fear flashed through her again and again until it felt like she was dying right there and then. They would mock her as she cried. They would mock her as Alistair took his pleasure and left her. They would mock her if she bore his child, they would mock her if she did not. She had never wanted this and now she was being punished. 

She couldn't win. The game was rigged. No matter what, she had lost.

Near noon, Alistair came in. She was too tired to tell him to leave and she let him sit on the floor beside the bed. He rested his head against the mattress and she rolled over, pulling the blanket heavier around her.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Her throat was too tight to speak and she shook her head.

"Did you get any sleep?"

She shook her head again.

"Can I come up?" 

She glared at him and sat up against the headboard, wrapping the sheets around her like a cocoon.

He sat beside her and grinned. "You're rather cute like that. Like a little bug."

"So romantic," she managed to mutter.

Alistair said, "I always liked ladybugs. I used to try to rescue them when they flew into the water troughs. They're tough little things too."

Anora replied, "If I am a ladybug than you are a bumblebee. Fuzzy and dawdling and far too big to be flying but doing so regardless."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he teased.

He put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, too tired to protest. He gave her a squeeze.

"I'm not okay either," he murmured. 

Anora asked tiredly, "Do you think you could love me?"

Alistair hesitated and then inquired, "Could you?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "It'd be easier if I could."

"I don't think there is anything about love that is easy," he said.

She smiled wearily. "Maybe you are not such a fool."

"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't let it go to your head."

Alistair said gently, "You don't have to be hard with me. I think...I think if we're going to make this work at all, you've got to trust me. I don't want to hurt you. I want you to be happy. If...if you can't see yourself happy with me then we'll figure something else out. You can't spend all of our marriage in bed because my company makes you so sick."

She shook her head. "I'll be okay."

"We should go for a walk," he said. "If you get some fresh air and a bit of exercise, you might be able to get some more sleep. I used to walk a lot during the Blight when the nightmares would keep me up."

She shook her head. "I'm too tired, but...could you stay?"

She wasn't sure why she asked but he pulled her into his arms. She cuddled into him and he held her so tenderly she almost felt like she was loved.

***

There were two rehearsals. One was nearly identical to the one she had years before. The same steps, the same promises, the same practiced words. Alistair held her hand and to her surprise, she did not let go. 

The second however was much stranger.

Isolde gathered a mere handful of people in a room far removed from the main chambers of the castle. It was essentially an oversized bedroom but split between two levels, as if the bed was on a raised stage. 

Alistair frowned. "This was here already?"

Isolde replied, "It is a visitation room. A monarch who was poorly might address the Landsmeet from this bed or present their child while it lay still in its mother's arms. The occasional bedding was also practiced here but it was less common. Nevertheless, it will do well for our purposes."

Isolde pointed to the two furthest doors. "You will each enter through here and proceed to the bed without speaking to the audience. You are not allowed to address them or acknowledge their presence. Once the act is complete, a curtain will be drawn around the higher level and you will remain until the room is clear. At that point, the audience will be invited to a brief reception and you will be expected to return to your chambers. Your attendants will guide you on when to enter and exit. My Queen, I am told you are still in need of one?"

Anora hesitated but Tabris spoke up, "Actually, Zevran is going to support Alistair and I'm going to stick by Anora."

Anora mouthed her thanks to Tabris and the elf gave her a surprisingly polite nod.

"So is this straight after the ceremony?" Alistair asked. "Won't people...you know, wonder where we went?"

"The wedding will be in the afternoon and followed by a royal banquet. The appropriate guests will be told that when the bells ring at dusk they are to arrive here. There will be three sets of bells and when the last stop, the Dans-le-lit will begin. Perhaps there will be questions, but no one will be allowed into this quarter of the castle without an invitation and it is considered to be highly improper to speak of a Dans-le-lit with anyone who did not attend. To do so among so many royal and important guests would be the destruction of their reputation."

"So you've got that going for you," Tabris commented to Alistair. 

"Hooray," Alistair muttered.   
"You and your attendants will be summoned approximately an hour before to ensure that you are properly groomed and washed beforehand. Please do not consume any alcohol as you will be given remedies in order to aid conception."

Alistair and Anora exchanged a quick look. In all of it, she had forgotten the real purpose of why they were there. Ferelden needed an heir. That was what it all boiled down to. This act was meant to shame her for failing to provide one. If it was successful, she never had to have intercourse again. There was comfort in that, even if the thought lay heavy.

Alistair smiled sadly to himself and she was not sure what it meant. It seemed almost wistful as if he too was lost in thought. 

"Do either of you have any questions?" Isolde asked.

Both Alistair and Anora were silent. They were dismissed and as they left the room, Alistair took her hand in his. 

He said quietly, "There's something I need to tell you. Can we get out of here?"

She nodded and followed him to his chambers, the ones they would soon share. She tried not to think of her last nights in this room but it was hard to not have those ghosts trail into her mind.

He sat at the settee before the unlit fireplace. She sat on the one across from him, surprised that he had let the room grow so cold.

Alistair repeated, "There's something I need to tell you."

"So you said," she reminded. 

He ran his hand through his hair, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he clasped his hands together and stared at them as if they were the most fascinating things in the room.

Alistair whispered, "I don't think I can have children."

Anora asked angrily, "Think or know?"

Alistair explained quietly, "Grey Wardens typically have low fertility. It is not commonly known and Eamon told me not to tell others. He thought it would hurt my chances of becoming King. I...I wanted you to know before we got married. I didn't think it was fair for me to make that decision for us."

Anora's mind raced as she tried to process this. The entire reason Alistair had been chosen was to continue his bloodline and he would not be even able to do so. His throne was based on a lie and he had given her the ammunition to destroy it. What did he expect her to say? That it didn't matter to her? That she still wanted him?

She could tell the Landsmeet right then. She could gather her forces and make a striking blow on the new King of Ferelden. A second civil war, but did Ferelden have resources for such a war? For her own pride? No. No, it was better this way. She still held the reigns. For Alistair to be so fallible already meant that she would always keep the upper hand between them.

Yet the thing she felt most strongly was anger. 

"They will blame me," Anora spat. "You know that, do you not? I will be blamed once again for a childless King. What is this for then, Alistair? For you to debase me in the name of our country only for your seed to be useless? This is not punishing me, it is protecting you. They will mock me. They will destroy me."

Alistair looked up and the threatened tears made her lose focus. 

In the pause in her tirade, Alistair murmured, "I'm sorry."

Her own heart softened, astonished at the gentleness in his words. As she rose from her seat, it felt as if she were stepping out of her own body to sit beside him. 

Of all the things she could have said, she shocked herself by asking, "Is there a chance at all?"

Alistair shook his head. "I don't know. I have to believe that there is."

He took her hand and she laced her fingers with his. She felt foolish, realizing then that Alistair had wanted to give her a chance to be happy. He was lost in his own misery and did not want to pull her into it.

"You truly wish to be a father?"

Alistair smiled weakly. "Is that such a strange thing? All my life, all I ever wanted was a family. This isn't exactly how I would have wanted it to happen but...yeah. I want to have kids. I don't know if you want them, but I do."

"I am not opposed to them," she replied. 

She thought of her own mother and then admitted, "I have always wanted a girl."

Alistair's smile grew stronger. "Me too."

Anora swallowed. "There is a chance."

Alistair agreed, "Stranger things have happened." 

They looked into each other's eyes and Anora felt as if she had been splashed with cold water. She pulled away and rose, smoothing out her dress.

"There are many things still to do," she said. "We should return to our duties."

Alistair beamed at her. "I guess we should. Not much longer before the big day."

***

It was late in the evening but Anora found she could not sleep. She read by the fireplace, the words blending together without meaning. She made it through two novels before she heard pebbles being thrown against her window. Frowning, she rose to investigate. 

Anora opened the window and looked down the trellis to see Alistair on the ground. He waved at her and put a finger at his lips to indicate she should be quiet. He mimed climbing up the wall and then shrugged with a smile. 

She frowned, considering that if he were caught it would ruin the consummation the next night and all their political goodwill would be squandered. But he looked so sincere that she nodded and gestured for him to come up.

With shocking grace, Alistair climbed through the ivy and hauled himself over the windowsill. He brushed himself off and smiled that sweet naive smile that made her want to slap him. 

"You shouldn't be here," she hissed. "If someone sees you-"

She quieted as his hand cupped her cheek.

He whispered, "If we're going to spend the rest of our lives together in public, I want one moment that's just ours. Just one thing that belongs to just us. So I'd really like to kiss you right now. If that's okay with you."

She kissed him first, lightly, gently. When they parted, Alistair grinned and she found herself doing the same. 

"You should go," she whispered. 

He kissed her tenderly, bringing her into his arms. Anora relaxed, falling into the embrace with surprising ease. She gently put her hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding against her touch.

"Tomorrow," he murmured.

She agreed, "Tomorrow."

Alistair left through the window, climbing carefully back to the ground. He waved and she watched him sneak back across the courtyard and to his own quarters.

She pressed her fingers to her lips and smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a real short one, but we're getting real close to the steamy bits. My guess is there are two chapters after this, but it could be three small ones instead. We'll see.

If one were to ask anyone about the morning before their wedding, they would tell you that they hardly remember a thing. It is a time for a thousand steps and preparations, all forgotten with only the fleeting memory of anxiousness. It was if Anora was surrounded by white noise until she reached the Chantry. Her first steps out of the carriage grounded her into reality. For the second time in her life, she was a bride. For the first time in her life, she was forced to become a wife.

Anora turned fearfully but there was no one to look back to but the memory of her parents. She missed her mother so badly, wanted so desperately for her to tell her that all would be well in the end.

Instead, Anora walked in alone.

***

Anora was glad for the quiet of the away room, glad to have a moment to breathe before it began. It was her last chance to strategize, to prepare, and she did not need any distractions. In this moment, as in every moment, her every movement needed to remind Ferelden that she needed no husband to be a Queen.

The music began but she suddenly felt as if she could not move. The fear prickled at the back of her neck, insisting that she pay attention to it. The panic started to set in, only fleeing at the sound of a loud rap at the door.

It opened, revealing a surprisingly well-dressed Tabris. She expected the elf to mock her but instead she extended her hand.

"Come on," the Warden said with shocking gentleness, "you got this."

Anora did not except her hand but she walked out with her regardless. Once she reached the threshold of the sanctuary, Tabris gave her a wink and sat in the back row.

Anora swallowed hard and took her first steps down the aisle. She hated the feel of hundreds of appraising glances and she refused to look out into the crowd. Instead she looked ahead towards the altar.

Alistair stood there waiting for her. Cailan had worn an intricate red suit with a white cloak and sash. She remembered nearly tripping over it while she navigated her equally cumbersome dress. But Alistair wore far simpler clothes, matching her own more demure attire. He wore well-tailored trousers and a buttoned jacket. The material was dark blue and complemented with a golden sash around his waist. She supposed the blue was a nod to his Grey Warden leaning, but she found the outfit suited him. It set off the gold in his reddish hair and the specks of amber in his eyes. 

Their eyes met and he grinned, abandoning the altar. The crowd gasped as Alistair met Anora halfway up the aisle and offered her his arm.

It broke protocol and suggested an intimacy that they did not have. Perhaps it might sway those who thought there was no love between them but otherwise it was a foolish gesture of affection. 

Yet she still took it, letting him lead them both to the priestess. Anora looked up at her groom, feeling a strange sense of peace. He was not a bad man to trust, if one was to trust any man. She could let him guide her, just this once.

They knelt before the Mother, still holding hands. Alistair only let go to clasp his in prayer, his head nearly bowed to the floor. Anora merely lowered her head in politeness. She had never been much for religion but it was expected of her. She listened to the sermon with only mild interest, honing in on any whispers of the first few rows. 

When it was over, the Mother instructed them to both rise to their feet. Alistair offered his hand to Anora and she let him help her as she navigated her heavy dress.

"Dearly Beloved," the Mother preached, "we remember the sacrifices that all suffered under the Blight. Let us find understanding here today as we bring together both sides of the war in the act of holy matrimony. Let Ferelden be healed through their love of each other and let our country find peace and harmony under their long reign. We pray that the Maker will grant them both a long and happy life with many children. We pray that they know the rest of their lives without war or strife. In Andraste's name we pray, Amen."

She turned to Alistair. "Alistair of the Theirin line, do you take this woman to be your wife? To be true to her in all things, to place her above all others, and love her as your own body and flesh?"

"I do," Alistair answered.

Anora nearly put her hand out but remembered that this was her second wedding. Rings would not be exchanged as she was expected to wear Cailan's until she died. 

"Anora Mac Tir, do you take this man to be your husband? To be true to him in all things, to place him above all others, and love him as your own body and flesh?"

"I do," she agreed.

"Then what is bound here today let no mortal sever. Go forth, King and Queen, husband and wife, lover and beloved. Before us witnesses, seal your commitment with a kiss."

Alistair cupped her face before kissing her, not as softly as the night before, but with enough feeling that it was clear that this was not just a political match. They both smiled as they parted.

The crowd rose to their feet and applauded. Alistair took her hand in his and they walked down the aisle, witnesses bowing as they passed them. As they entered the hall, Alistair's hand shifted protectively to the small of her back.

"We can still run for it," he promised in a whisper. 

_Body and flesh._ She had already sealed her fate. She had already given her body to Alistair to use as he saw fit. There was no one to protect her now, no one concerned about the state of her maidenhood. Cailan had been kind or indifferent enough to leave her alone after the first year. With Alistair...perhaps if it had been just the two of them, taking their time, then it would not be so bad. Alistair was gentle to a fault, perhaps, but he would never hurt her. If she winced, he would stop. If she cried, he would comfort. To be vulnerable with him was to gain his favour. It could be not so terrible even if she was afraid.

But now the physicality of it struck her harder than it had before. It was not just that it was a violation of her privacy and a punishment for her lack of loyalty. Anora would actually have to have intercourse. She would be opened and taken and inseminated. A man would take his pleasure of her because he desired it. A man would give her his seed because he required an heir. Her body was no longer her own and she could not fight it. She could not cry or beg or push him away. There was no one in that room to protect her, only watch. 

Except Alistair. He would protect her, even from himself. She was no object to him, no tool at his disposal. He was much a victim as she was, even if his heart broke because of faith rather than fear. 

Alistair said softly, "We don't have to do this."

But they did. This too was war. Anora had not had to fight in battle before but now she did. If she wanted to protect Ferelden, she needed to do this. If she wanted to protect all that she had worked so hard for, she was going to have to do it with a smile. 

She shook her head. "No. We made a promise. We're going to see this through."

The moment of privacy was lost as attendants and well wishers swarmed them once again. Alistair stayed by her side and she fought the urge to cling to him. With a word, he could save her and she knew he would. Could she say the same? If he said no, would she follow him into civil war or would she slap him and demand that he sacrifice just as much as her?

She did not know. She would never know unless he asked and she knew in her heart he never would. 

Perhaps that was what he meant then. He could not ask, only hope that she would ask him. Perhaps she was waiting for her to save him. 

They glanced at each other, both with much to say and no time left to say it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Maker, this was painful to write. Like it goes against every writing instinct I have after years of making the smut. Heads up, this is some UNCOMFORTABLE sex. There's two chapters after this and I promise this is the worst of the unhappy bits. Time now to lie back and think of Ferelden!

Anora was not ready. She would never be ready. But she could pretend that she was. Anora held her head up high, trying to ignore Tabris' appreciative glance.

"You are not helping, Warden," she commented.

"Sorry, I just haven't seen anyone without cellulite before," Tabris replied incredulously. "Like, how? Is there some rich people lotion no one told me about?"

Anora did not reply and went to the mirror. Erlina brought her a thin silky robe and helped wrap it around her before Anora sat. Her faithful handmaiden brushed out her long golden hair, braiding in a few sprigs of baby's breath.

When she was done, Anora asked Erlina to leave. Anora turned to face Tabris, leaning over the back of her chair.

"Well, you're definitely a knock out," Tabris admired. "I think no one's going to think you look like an old maid. You ready, princess?"

Anora considered what would happen if she said no. While Tabris was not fond of her, she would respect her enough to smuggle her out. But then...what then? She had made her decision and it had led her here. She couldn't back out, not without ruining everything. 

Anora found she could not speak. 

"You're scared shitless, aren't you?"

Anora closed her eyes. "It does not matter. It will be done and I am strong enough to do it. It will not take long."

Anora took a deep breath and turned to look at the elf. The Warden seemed like she would say something but instead she just shook her head.

The bell tolled and Anora's heart started racing again. She put her hand against her chest to quiet it but it only amplified the sound.

"It's time to go," Tabris said softly.

She expected Tabris to open the door for her but realized the elf was giving her one last chance for agency. Anora felt a strange affection for her in that moment but pushed it to the side. It was time. 

Anora opened the door and stepped into the room. She crossed the stage, refusing to look upon the audience. She focused on the bed. It was showier than most in the palace and while it did not look particularly comfortable, it looked regal enough. There was a tucked white sheet covering the mattress but nothing else. With a flush of embarrassment, she realized that sheet was not just to keep the bed clean but to display the evidence of their copulation. If she had known it was so easy to fake, she would have pricked her finger on her first wedding night and been done with it.

She reached the bed and lay down. She heard a snort from the crowd and she ignored it, looking up at the canopy of the bed. She glanced over at the other side of the stage, waiting for Alistair to appear.

She had always known that Alistair was not a small man but somehow he seemed to be even broader naked. His skin was scarred and freckled but it was still a lovely hue. He was muscled but his shape was less defined than simply strong. He looked more a farm boy than she had ever seen him, even when he had been in the stables. He did not look a King then, just a man.

Alistair's cheeks flushed bright red as he entered the room and he looked at the ground as he crossed over to the bed. As the second bell rang, he sat beside Anora, facing away from the audience. She reached out and touched his thigh, surprised by how warm he was. She imagined that he had been given herbs and potions as she had but she got the sense that this was just the way he was.

Alistair looked down at her and he slowly smiled. He was afraid too. It made her feel a bit more at ease. They were equals in this. Not a domination, but just mutual awkwardness and discomfort. Perhaps she even had the upper hand. He would reach his climax regardless and in that vulnerable place she might even find a tool to use against him if need be. Wiser men had been manipulated with the promise of sex. It did not occur to her that if all went well, he might be able to do the same.  
The third bell rang and she felt almost numb. She felt outside of herself, felt as if it was another woman stripping out of her clothes, another woman lying down and spreading her legs. She laid with her side facing the audience, her curves on display but her sex only visible to Alistair.

He knelt above her, sheltering her from the crowd the best he could. He kissed her forehead and she looked into his mournful eyes.

He whispered, "Do you want me to..."

Anora had read that foreplay would make the initial penetration easier but the idea of Alistair clumsily attempting to pleasure her in front of all these people was absolutely humiliating. If it was going to be painful, it might as well be done quickly.

She murmured, "Just do it."

She thought to close her eyes but she could not look away from his face. He moved her legs around his waist and drew her closer to him. The tip of his cock brushed against her sex. The potions had helped her arousal enough that an initial breach was possible. He pushed a little deeper into her and she yelped. It was a tiny sound but it shattered her. No. No they would not see her fear.

He thrust into her and she put her arms around his neck, trying to bring him into her. She spread her thighs a little more, even as she was split open. She winced, panting and Alistair worked her open. Her maidenhead was stretched from self-pleasure but it was not enough. It ripped and it took every ounce of strength not to plead Alistair to stop. He kissed her neck quickly, a silent apology that she felt compelled to accept. 

The first thrust shuddered through her and she dug her nails into his back. His movements were slow and she begged him in a hushed sigh to finish quickly. She burrowed her face into his shoulder, trying to hide her tears. Alistair snuggled against her, whispering again and again in her ear, "It's okay, it's okay."

Alistair was trying to protect her from himself and the thought nearly tore her in two. How dare he be okay? How dare he pretend that this was okay? She wanted to be angry but at feeling his own tears, she held on tighter to him. 

He gasped as he came, spurting into her. She held him, cradling his head in her hands. Their eyes met and she kissed him tenderly. In that moment, they were unified in their loss and regret. She had never felt as close to another person as she did in that kiss. She loved him, not as a husband, but as one would a fellow survivor of a wildfire. That bond was stronger than their marriage vows to her. 

Alistair pulled away from her and she grimaced at the feel of his seed trickling out of her. He left the bed and lifted her to her feet. Shielding her from the audience, he led her back into the waiting room where their attendants and servants cared for them. Anora could not look at Alistair, knowing if he showed any affection she would start crying and she would not let anyone but him see her that vulnerable again.


	8. Chapter 8

Anora was not sure what compelled her, but she sought Alistair out that night. His servant allowed him to enter the royal chambers, informing her that he was in the bath. 

Anora expected Alistair to be surprised to see her but his eyes met hers with a quiet resignation. Without words, she stripped out of her own nightgown and stepped into the bath with him. She lay on his soapy naked chest and he protectively put his arms around her. He buried his face in her neck and started to sob. 

He whispered, "I'm so sorry, Anora. I'm so sorry."

"We both agreed," she murmured. "This is not your fault."

"I didn't enjoy it," he promised. "I just wanted it over with. I'm sorry, I'm so-"

She turned and silenced him with a kiss. She put her arms around his neck and he shifted to cradle her in his arms and thighs. He kissed her in return, his hands cupping her face. He enveloped her in his presence and despite everything there was a comfort to that she longed for. She knew he was a warrior but he was no swordsman. He was a shield. He covered her vulnerabilities while she struck. He was no King but he would make her a better Queen. 

After a time, Anora returned to his chest and they lay together until the bath grew cold. Eventually they dried and dressed into their nightclothes. Alistair locked the doors, not wanting anyone to disturb the fragile peace they had found. They curled up in the King's bed and retreated to the embrace of the other. Anora knew it was the same body that had hurt her, had shamed her, but she could not stop needing its touch. She suspected he felt the same. 

Tiredly, Anora asked, "Do you think it even worked?"

Alistair admitted, "I don't know. But I don't want that to be the way we make our baby. When I was traveling, I heard that the Dalish believe a child's soul is formed in the moment it is conceived. I don't believe in that, but I don't want every time we hold our child to remember this."

"It would be politically wise for our child to be conceived then," Anora commented. "We would have the loyalty of everyone in that room."

Alistair hesitated. "Then maybe we can make them believe that."

Anora raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Alistair, are you suggesting we lie?" 

Alistair explained, "If we try again tomorrow or another day, maybe if we're lucky we can get with child and say that it was conceived on our wedding night. I don't know if we can but whatever potions they've given us should work for a little while longer. I know it might be too soon. I know you might never want to...you know again. But maybe think about it."

Anora had been considering it for hours already. At the time she had thought that since she was already in pain a second round of intercourse would not make it worse. But he was not suggesting this out of practicality. He was suggesting it for love of their unborn child and for the healing of their fledging relationship. 

"It is not an unwise idea," she agreed, "but perhaps...perhaps it would be wiser to do it sooner. We are more likely to conceive now than tomorrow morning. I do not want to rush you, of course, but it..."

She looked into his impossibly soft eyes and felt the strength to say what was truly in her heart. "We could try again, just for us. A second wedding night. A second first time. If that does not seem foolish."

Alistair murmured, "It sounds perfect."

He shifted, kneeling above her. She took her nightgown off and spread her legs, expecting him to mount her again. Instead he dipped his head between her thighs, kissing her skin. He looked up at her almost eagerly and she nodded nervously. She did not know what to expect but by the first kiss on her outer lips, she knew she wanted this. He kissed and sucked, letting her body open to him. By the time his tongue teased her entrance, she was nearly gone. His mouth was hot against her pearl and when he sucked lightly on it, she cried out.

There was no delicate way of explaining what happened next. He devoured her. He ate of her and she rode his tongue and fingers, every brush of him sending her to a climax she feared would stop her heart. And when she came, he drank of her, lapping at her release, coaxing her through it. When she had recovered, Alistair raised his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Anora managed to ask, "Have you...have you done that before?" 

Alistair grinned sheepishly. "Zevran made me practice on a peach." 

She made a mental note to ensure the assassin received a royal pardon first thing in the morning.

Alistair kissed her and she found she did not mind the taste of her on his lips. 

"I would have you do that every moment of our lives," she confessed, "but you will not get me with child with your mouth."

He stripped out of his clothes, revealing how hard he had become just from pleasuring her. She was open to him, her body aching for the thing she had feared for so long. In this moment, she wanted him and she wanted him badly. It did not matter how she had him, as long as he kept touching her.

He knelt above her, desire obvious in his eyes, but he waited until she whispered, "Yes."

In a fluid motion, he brought her legs over his hips. His cock pressed against her entrance and their eyes met once more before he sunk into her. She expected pain but it was more pressure. She was so wet and so exposed to him that he just slid into her. As if they were made to fit together. When he thrust into her, she winced just once and then relaxed. She moved with him and breathed with him. She kissed him, having no words to express her relief and her gratitude. 

She wrapped her legs around him, leaving just enough space to slide her hand between them. She did not ask permission to touch herself but Alistair groaned in affirmation regardless. She could reach climax easily alone but with his movements within her she found herself growing tense quickly. Anora came hard on his cock, clenching as she thrust again him and her fingers. She cried out and Alistair moaned her name again and again until the very sound of his voice sent aftershocks through her body. She brought herself off again, Alistair pleading her to keep going, his own thrusts growing faster and harder. She expected him to finish shortly but he remained rigid and his movements fluid. She followed her own pleasure and he kissed down her neck, his hands gripping her hips.

When he did reach climax, his entire face shifted from concentration to a look of pure ecstasy, as if he had reached a spiritual high instead of a biological one. He kissed her hungrily, his tongue seeking hers, and she quickened her attentions to her nearly too sensitive pearl. She unraveled around him, her body almost too blissed to acknowledge the pleasure but still clasping onto him, squeezing his cock as he spilled into her. They rode and writhed against each other, desperate for every last piece of the other's release. 

Alistair grew soft but still hard enough to remain a little inside her. Her sex ached but it felt more sore than torn. It was a manageable sort of pain now and she knew it would ease in time. She tried to express this but her voice was almost gone. She was suddenly embarrassed, realizing she had been screaming. 

Wordlessly, they moved, propping Anora's hips up with a pillow. Alistair laid down beside her and though his lips did not move, she knew he was praying.

And though she did not believe, she did too.


	9. Chapter 9

Amaranthine was not far but Anora found that she missed Alistair. They had been married for just over two months when he left but already they had settled into a routine that suited them both. She was the sword of Ferelden and he was the shield. She played offense, he played defense. They spoke in meetings through gestures and smiles, learning so quickly how the other thought.

Anora worried Eamon would think this a victory but the man was horrified. He had clearly meant to punish her and regain his grasp on Alistair. Instead he had created an alliance, a team. The Landsmeet would of course never officially tell her of the public perception of their leadership but Anora had heard the difference among the common people. When Erlina brushed her hair at night, her handmaiden almost teased her. The people of Ferelden had already loved Alistair, the lost prince and hero of the Blight. The people of Ferelden had always respected Anora for her grace, her guidance, and her origins as one of their own. 

But now it was rumoured that it had been a love match after all, posed as a political alliance to protect Anora's reputation as a recent widow. In Denerim, a bard at a local tavern had written two different songs about their supposedly clandestine romance during the war. One of them had much naughtier lyrics than the other. 

Anora had laughed at the thought of their supposed year long romance and pining from afar. She cared for him now, yes, but she could not imagine either of them falling in love at first sight all those months ago. 

It was "secret Warden business" that had sent him north and despite Anora's protests that he was no longer a Warden, he had insisted that he needed to help out and that he would be gone for two weeks at most. It had only been three days but she found herself sulking. She missed him badly. She missed gossiping with him at the end of a long meeting. She missed him sleeping next to her, radiating warmth. She missed his mouth on hers, his body pressed to hers. She missed the vulnerable side of herself, hidden away until they would next be alone together. There were two secrets she was keeping close to her heart and neither of them she could speak of to anyone other than him.

The first had already been shared with him long ago and agreed to be kept quiet for a few months more despite both of their excitement. Anora was carrying their child. Besides the midwife, no one knew or would know until the quickening.

The second she had not spoken aloud yet and only concerned the two of them. It was a realization that was recent, so recent that it had not occurred to her until she had seen him ride away, turning once more to wave goodbye to her.

She was in love with him. 

That was why when she heard of the attack on Vigil's Keep her heart missed two beats. That was why she held her calm appearance even if her interior was screaming in pain. He had survived so much but would he survive this? And if he did not...then how would she?

For three days she waited, her spare hours spent at the open window in their chambers, looking out onto the road and the people that walked it. In public she was strong but behind closed doors she was nothing more than a frightened woman in love. 

And then she saw him. 

Anora knew she should dress for the public eye. She knew she should walk, practically float across the floor. She knew she should keep her head up and greet the King as her fellow sovereign. She knew that she should kiss his cheek and ask him how his journey fared and walk arm in arm like gentlefolk.

But she ran. She ran, nearly pushing aside a minor lord. She ran out into the courtyard just as Alistair dismounted his horse. He swept her into his arms and dipped down to kiss her. She held him close and he instinctively put his hand on her hip, shielding both her and their growing child. She kissed him long and hard, running her fingers through his hair. When they parted, Alistair pressed his forehead to hers and cupped her face in his hands.

"You're okay?" She asked, her heart pounding.

He promised, "I'm fine. The battle was already over by the time I got there. I tried to send a messenger but-"

"It doesn't matter," she assured, "as long as you're home."

At that last word, he beamed and she could not help smiling in return. She would not tell him that she loved him in that moment but she felt as if he already knew. Their held silence meant more than either of them could say. So they walked to the stables, Alistair with one hand on the horse's reins, the other on her waist. She curled into his frame and let him lead their steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my Maker, I actually finished this. Well, hope you folks who were in months ago enjoyed this one. It ended happily. Who woulda thunk it?


End file.
